It was the present she would never have.
One
Death Valley, Vietnam
Six months later
6 July 1972
Only the top half of Fletcher’s head was visible above the murky water. The rest of his body was submerged beneath the mud and thick reeds alongside the riverbank. He was drawing short, shallow breaths. From his position, he could make out three members of his platoon. Point man Mitchell Lord, radioman Gunther Pearson, and their lieutenant, Rogan Brock, were hidden in a classic L-shaped ambush awaiting an enemy patrol. They had been hiking up to a site three kilometers away to set up a landing zone when they were warned about them. Their information had the group at a little more than twenty soldiers— large by Vietnam standards. The fact that their own platoon numbered only half that was of no real consequence, as the ambush, coupled with their superior firepower, gave them a telling advantage. Their chief concern was that many Vietnamese patrols comprised small groups of soldiers staggered sometimes half a kilometer apart. There was a real danger that during the firefight, they would be outflanked.
Fletcher blinked away the sweat around his eyes and checked his rifle again. There was always a chance, however vague, that it would jam and leave him defenseless at the vital moment. As sniper, his job was to try to pick out the ranking officer and take him down first. Cut off the head, and the body will fall, the army taught them. It was the same modus operandi for both sides, and as such, none of the soldiers wore any insignia out in the field that would reveal their rank. But there were other ways of telling. Often the soldier consulting the map would be the ranking officer. Regardless, it was crucial that Fletcher allowed the point man to pass in front of him. If Fletcher fired too soon, the soldiers would have a chance to scatter and find cover. Another problem was that both the North Vietnamese Army and the Vietcong, or Charlie, as U.S. soldiers nicknamed them, were extremely smart and notoriously elusive. On one of Fletcher’s first tours, several weeks before, they had set up an identical ambush on a patrol of sixteen Charlie, yet several of them had escaped. Given their position and superior firepower, the trap had seemed watertight, but there was a leak somewhere. An unseen hole through which some of the soldiers had managed to disappear. By the time the last of the rounds had been fired and the rifle smoke began to lift, only twelve men were left dead on the ground. In fact, so slippery was Charlie that some U.S. troops had been on tour for months and had never even seen him, although most had felt him. He was small, nimble, and blended seamlessly into the jungle. His tactics were to attack and retreat— basic guerrilla warfare. No helicopters, gunships, or bombing campaigns to support him. Just cunning and cutting. He would stab you and then withdraw into the shadows. Charlie was a ghost that never slept. He made traps that intended to maim, not kill. Traps that would slow down platoons and gnaw away at their spirit. In the jungles of Vietnam, Charlie was a highly formidable enemy.
Faint voices.
Fletcher narrowed his gaze to hide the whites of his eyes. He remained perfectly still, the area around him disturbed only by a swarm of flying insects breaking the surface of the soupy water with their wings in an attempt to lure out prey.
It seems everyone’s hunting, he thought grimly. The body of his gun was covered with mud and rotting leaves to guard against reflections.
Only the open barrel— the killing eye, as they called it— was visible to the trail.
Footsteps and voices. Louder now.
A soldier, barely five feet tall and wearing a worn pith helmet, emerged over the rise. Holding his breath, Fletcher curled his finger around the trigger of his M16 and followed the diminutive figure as he approached the ambush. Something slick and heavy swam between his legs. Still no sign of the rest of the patrol.
Waiting … waiting.
Fletcher flinched at what he saw next. An American soldier wearing the distinctive emblem of the First Air Cavalry Division appeared into view. His arms were bound over a wooden pole behind his back, and his face bore the obvious signs of interrogation. As he limped forward slowly, he was kicked from behind by one of his captors.
Fletcher looked to his lieutenant for instruction. Through a series of hand signals, Rogan ordered him to take out the two soldiers directly in front of and behind the hostage. This would minimize the chance of the American getting shot in the firefight. He then signaled for the rest of the platoon to switch from automatic to single fire. He looked back at Fletcher and held up his fist, waiting for the right moment.
A bead of sweat rolled down the bridge of Fletcher’s nose, paused for a beat, then dropped into the water. With one eye on Rogan and the other straining toward his two marks, he again held his breath. C’mon … c’mon …
Rogan dropped his hand.
Fletcher squeezed off two rounds in quick succession. Before the second soldier even hit the ground, the rest of the platoon opened fire. The sound was devastating. As Charlie tried to return fire, point man Mitchell Lord burst out of his hiding place, tackled the U.S. hostage, and dragged him down an embankment. It was typical Lord. He was every bit as brave as he was crazy. Toward the back of the patrol, three of the soldiers had managed to find cover, but they were quickly flanked and taken out. In less than a minute, twenty three Charlie lay dead in the burning sunshine of Vietnam.
Just another day in hell.
Other Books by Gareth Crocker
Finding Jack
When the war ends, how do you leave your best friend behind?
Jack was his friend, partner, protector, hero …
And Fletcher wasn’t leaving him behind.
Following a tragic accident, Fletcher Carson joins the flagging war effort in Vietnam. Lost and lonely, he plans to die in the war. But after stumbling upon a critically injured yellow Lab, Fletcher unexpectedly finds a reason to live. He finds Jack.
Fletcher and Jack are a team, and like the hundreds of other U.S. Military dogs and their handlers in Vietnam, they serve their country, saving countless lives. To the men, the dogs are heroes. But at the end of the war, the U.S. government announces that all the dogs serving in the conflict have been declared ‘surplus military equipment’ and will not be transported home. Ordered to leave Jack behind, Fletcher refuses – and so begins the journey of two friends who will go to the ends of the earth to save each other.
Based on the actual existence and abandonment of canine units in Vietnam, Finding Jack is more than just a story of man saves dog. It is a story of friendship and love, and a moving tribute to the forgotten heroes of a desperate war. And proof that sometimes it is dog that truly saves man.
Journey from Darkness
An ancient elephant. A land of killers. One chance.
He sat down and looked out over the horizon. Dark cloth-like figures – the tailcoats of a bad dream – pitched and wheeled against an early night. The bloated moon that hung over them had never looked more like a watchful eye as it did right now. He suddenly wondered if it was a coincidence that the elephant had chosen to rest under a rock overhang. Or was she trying to hide from something? If Shawu hadn’t lost her mind, what was coming after them? What the hell was coming?
Escaping an England crippled by The Great War, twin brothers Edward and Derek Hughes head to South Africa. Inspired by their late father’s diary, they intend to help save the country’s dwindling elephant population from savage poaching that has placed them on the brink of oblivion. Soon after their arrival, however, they discover a rare female Desert Elephant – an animal believed by many to be a myth – following an ancient ghost trail to Bechuanaland. But the enormous matriarch is not alone. She is being pursued by relentless shadows – a black light that will stop at nothing to bring her down.
To save her, the brothers will have to journey into the darkness.
A darkness, born from the war they left behind.
Never Let Go
If she died … What if you could get her back?
As he presses a revolver to his head, Reece Cole sees his li
ttle daughter’s handprints on the windowpane. One last, painful reminder of her all-too-short life. But then he notices something about the handprints that defies belief. Something that verges on the impossible. He spends the next few days frantically trying to make sense of what is happening. Then a stranger stops at his gate with a small grey envelope. Inside is a single white card, inscribed with six breathtaking words: I can bring your daughter back.
King
How far would you go to save the ones you love?
Elijah Rolene is a lost man. Following the death of his wife, he quits his job as a police pilot and turns to prescription painkillers for comfort. Not content to watch him destroy his life, his veterinarian sister convinces him to help out at her animal shelter.
Soon, they rescue a rare white lion cub from the heart of Detroit’s gangland. The lion is brought to live with them and instantly connects with Elijah’s autistic niece, Harper. As Harper is brought out of her shell, so Elijah begins to heal as well. But something happens that puts their family at risk and threatens to tear their world apart. Elijah is faced with a question that will define the rest of his life: How far will you go if you have nothing left to lose?
THE BEGINNING
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Copyright © Gareth Crocker 2015
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ISBN: 978-0-143-53157-9
The Last Road Trip Page 19